


those ashen rooms

by vindicatedtruth (behindtintedglass)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, post star trek beyond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 09:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17404445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/behindtintedglass/pseuds/vindicatedtruth
Summary: Spock gives Kirk one of the possessions bequeathed to him by Ambassador Spock, insisting that Kirk is the true owner.Kirk believes otherwise.





	those ashen rooms

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by @nonbinarysaavik's [achingly beautiful headcanon](http://vindicatedtruth.tumblr.com/post/181973270324/nonbinarysaavik-theladytrickster) that I highly encourage you to read. The idea is supported by an equally aching scene in Star Trek Beyond: the one where Commander Spock is going over Ambassador Spock's possessions after the battle with Edison. One of those objects is a red book embossed with Vulcan script.
> 
> This is an exploration of what that book might be.

 

 

Kirk blinks when he finds the scrapbook on his desk.

He runs his fingers tentatively over the beautiful Vulcan script, embossed on the cover in elegant gold, and his heart strangely aches to know what the words mean.

He opens the cover—and feels his heart stop.

 _Jim,_ the painfully familiar handwriting begins. He swallows, exhales the breath he has been holding, and sits down, feeling his legs unable to support him anymore.

His fingers are shaking as they skim through the words.

_This once belonged to Ambassador Spock. It is illogical to treasure objects that have no purpose other than the sentimental, and yet as I peruse the contents, I understand why this has been dear to him._

It hits Kirk only now—the grief over the Ambassador’s death. The universe, as expansive as it is, suddenly seems hollow and meaningless without the light of his old friend’s presence. His vision begins to blur, and he furiously blinks back his unshed tears even as he smiles at the next line.

_For I find myself concurring. And an object of this inimitable value deserves to be returned to its rightful owner._

His brows furrow in confusion. 

_I do not know if our own lives will follow the same trajectory as theirs. I only know one constant._ _And it is that, in every dimension, in every reality, in every universe, I have been and always shall be—_

_Your friend,  
Spock._

Kirk stares for a long time at the signature, uncomprehending. His heart is beating rapidly against his ribs, fear and anticipation filling his nerves with adrenaline.

He doesn’t understand why he’s so scared of what he might discover. But he has always thrived best in facing his fears, so he turns the first page.

He blinks at the first flower carefully and painstakingly preserved on the page. His gaze flickers to the annotation below, and he smiles even as his chest twists in renewed loss.

The handwriting is similar enough for him to know whose it is.

“ _Captain’s commentary: the flora reminds him of myself. Illogical, but noteworthy of further study re: similarities.”_

He can’t help but grin; he can imagine that the James Tiberius Kirk of that universe as being just as cheeky. Knowing his own self, the other Kirk probably gave _his_ Spock this flower to mess with him.

His grin softens into a gentle smile. The other Kirk also probably didn’t expect that his Spock would keep it, let alone deem it worth preserving.

He turns the page, and is met with another preserved flower, this time with a different commentary.

“ _Given by Capt. Kirk to commemorate, in his own words, ‘the first time I saw a Vulcan smile’. Note: Vulcans do not smile. Supplemental: Verify with Dr. McCoy re: human delusions.”_

Kirk laughs softly at Ambassador Spock’s oblique sense of humour, and yet... his heart rate speeds up again, because he knows himself, and... he’s beginning to suspect why _this_ Kirk had kept giving _his_ Spock gifts like this.

He swallows.

He rifles through page after page of little sentimental gifts _;_ he chuckles as the Kirk of that universe gets more and more creative. There’s a particularly memorable page which contains a small clear pouch of merlot sand, and underneath is a particularly curt annotation, as if Ambassador Spock doesn’t like remembering this one: “ _Surviving Pon Farr.”_

His fingers drift over the pouch, somehow knowing instinctively that it came from Vulcan _,_ and makes a mental note to later ask Spock about this Pon Farr business. He has no idea what it is, but if it’s something that’s a potential threat to his friend’s life, then he wants to make sure that he’s there to save him from it, just like the Kirk of that universe did for _his_ Spock.

He has no idea what the story behind this keepsake is, but he has absolutely no doubt that the Kirk of that universe did not hesitate to lay his own life on the line for his Spock.

... Just like him.

Kirk takes a deep breath to try to calm his unsettled nerves. He’s nearing the end of the book when he gets to a particular foliage  _he_ recognises _—_ and he _stares_.

The leaves are a bright, wine red, contrasting starkly with eggshell white branches, and he immediately knows where this particular plant came from.

_Nibiru._

Heart thundering against his chest, his gaze immediately drops to the annotation, and he’s not surprised to note that the handwriting has changed to one he intimately knows like the back of his hand.

What makes his heart stop is the annotation of _his_ Spock.

“ _The needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many_.”

He breathes out a watery smile, the memory of Spock’s voice breaking into static amidst volcanic ash is one that he’s unlikely to ever forget _—_ as is the searing vision of Spock breaking into tears on the other side of the glass chamber. He’s glad to have proven Spock wrong in his initial belief, but he wishes neither of them have to learn any more lessons the hard way.

He turns the page, and it’s another letter, one that seems to be a continuation of the first.

_I presume that, due to your innate curiosity, you seek to understand the Vulcan script on the cover of this book._

He grins. His Spock knows him all too well.

_Vulcan does not translate very well into Standard, but I have attempted the closest approximation of it on the next page._

_It is a Vulcan poem, one of Surak’s oldest, and one that Vulcans use to commemorate our t’hy’la._

He stares at that last word. For some reason, even though he doesn’t understand the Vulcan term, it’s _familiar_ to him in a way that lights up recognition in him _—_ that sense of simply _knowing,_ the way he’d look over the Captain’s chair with the calm surety that his First Officer will always be there for him, _with_ him.

He turns the page.

_Before loving you, love, nothing was mine:_ __  
_I staggered through streets and who knew what:_ __  
_nothing mattered or had a name:_ _  
_ _the earth was just expectant air._

_I knew those ashen rooms,_ __  
_tunnels inhabited by the moon,_ __  
_cruel hangars that withdrew,_ _  
_ _questions insisting on the sand._

_Everything was empty, dead and speechless,_ __  
_fallen, abandoned and decayed,_ _  
_ _everything was inalienably alien,_

_everything was someone else’s, or no one’s,_ __  
_till your beauty and your poverty_ _  
_ _filled the autumn with their gifts._

 

* * *

 

The door to Spock’s quarters at Yorktown slides open.

“What does _t’hy’la_  mean?”

Spock blinks as his Captain gets to the point without preamble or pause. His gaze flickers down to the red book in the Captain’s hands. He swallows. “There is... no direct translation to Standard,” he hedges.

“Yeah, so you’ve said in this book,” Kirk’s mouth quirks as he takes one step closer. Spock takes a step back, his heart thundering against his side.“Try the closest approximation anyway,” Kirk murmurs, unbearably close, his civilian Terran clothes just barely brushing against Spock's formal Vulcan robes.

Trembling, Spock clasps his hands over Kirk’s that are holding the book. “It is everything we were.” 

Kirk’s eyes are wide Spock raises their entwined hands. “It is everything we are.”

His gaze locks on into admiral blue, surrounded by the beginnings of crow’s feet, and thinks... it will be a privilege to record the laugh lines as they appear over a lifetime. “It is everything we will be.” 

Kirk smiles, his thumbs brushing against sensitive Vulcan skin.

“Then I guess this book...” his fingers close over Spock’s, sealing the vow with a Vulcan kiss.

“It belongs to both of us.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Poem from Pablo Neruda’s Sonnet XXV, translated into English from the original Spanish.


End file.
